Away up north in the land of snow
There lived one NANCHUCKNOOK,
A frosty little Eskimo
Whose name means “fish-we-cook.”
(When asked to give a reason
For this silly-sounding name,
His mother shrugged, and said: “was fish
Were cook when baby came.”)
His life was pretty much the image
Sitting in your head:
A bunch of cold Chinese dudes who
Subsist on reindeer-bread.
The other little igloo-boys
Would play that they were grown,
Pretending they were hunters with their
Spears of narwhal-bone.
But Nanchucknook, by all accounts,
Was held to be quite queer,
For he was mostly interested
In throat, and nose, and ear.
“An E.N.T.,” said Nanchucknook,
“That what me want to be!
I wish for go to City-Town,
Get medical degree!”
So secretly the little chap
Applied to B.U. Med —
To Boston University
His little heart was lead.
For forty days and forty nights
He waited patiently
For that portentous letter which would
Seal his destiny.
“Dear Nanchucknook,” the letter read
“Congrats — you made it in!
Come right on down to Boston so
Your studies may begin!”
But to this plan the elders
Of the clan were quite opposed,
Because to all things Caucasoid
Their noble minds were closed.
The boy’s beloved father, one
Kaleek-u-Glook, said “Son,
For why you want see people white
When snow have here a ton?”
“And for cuz why you want leave home?”
(His spirit could not comprehend
That which his son desired).
But then Kaleek-u-Glook went on:
“…For just as mother-seal
Store up her lots of blubber-fats,
And make of fish her meal,
So too does hungry Eskimo
Eat from that mama’s fat.”
(Which must have been a “metaphor,”
Or some weird shit like that.)
But Nanchucknook arose in grief,
And solemnly he said:
“It destiny for me help those
Who all gunked-up in head.”
Whereat his father hung his head
And said, “Alas! Woe me!”
And cast his spear, Taleek-chu-klook,
Into the sounding sea.
But as for little Nanchucknook,
He boarded his canoe,
And with a final farewell-wave,
He bid his folks “adieu.”
And as he sailed a-southwards
Full of vim and vig’ and pluck,
He thought that he would shorten down
His name to simply “Chuck.”
And thus he went to med-school,
And his culture he forsook
And turned his back upon the noble
Name of Nanchucknook.
Now at that time dominion over
All the North was held
By one who ages long-forgot
Upon the ice had dwelled.
This tyrant was no limp-wrist fag,
No whining, weak-willed wuss —
The Grand-High King of all the North
How hulking was this heaving beast,
How hideous his hide!
Like sixteen-hundred thousand pounds
Of wrinkled lard-landslide!
He brandished like a pair of swords
His fearsome razor-tusks,
And from him spewed the potentest
Of rancid mammal-musks.
A harem full of walrus-wives
The Walrus King did keep,
And as his appetite was great,
They seldom got much sleep.
Bartfa and Galoompa were
His pair of walrus-brides;
The emperor had many other
Yet ever Slartimanderpuss
Did yearn for greater power;
Until at last, one hoary day,
He deemed it was his hour.
He gazed upon the valley where
The Eskimos encamped
And said, “I think I’ll take their town;
I’m feeling rather cramped.”
Then mustering his minions all
The dark, satanic liege
Commanded that his walrus-force
Commence the dreadful siege.
Meanwhile, in the yonder South,
Our hero, “Chuck,” progressed.
He English learned and syntax, too,
And rarely up he messed.
He settled into college life
And got a roommate, Lucas,
And threw himself into the
Academia of mucus.
At last it seemed to all that Chuck
Had finally found his niche,
Though he was oft harassed by Kate,
Who was a total bitch.
Kate would claim that Chuck was “only
There ‘cause B.U. gives
A certain quota of its spots
To godless primitives.”
Indeed, the art of “twist the knife”
Was one that Kate had mastered —
She never missed a chance to dig
“That frostbite-loving bastard.”
Yet on the whole our hero, Chuck,
Was happy as could be —
He even got a sweetheart
By the name of Natalie.
Indeed, for long it seemed to him
That things could get no better.
But then it came to pass, one day,
That Chuck received a letter.
“Dear Fish-We-Cook,” the missive read,
“We hope that all is well.
But as for us, we’re doin’ bad —
Our lives up here are hell!
For Slartimanderpuss the Great,
The Daemon Walrus-King,
Has taken o’er our village,
And he’s started plundering!
Our daughters cry for mercy
As we watch the rapes unfold;
Our village would be burning
If it wasn’t so damn cold!
We’re sure you’re very busy
With your studies of the head —
We just thought you should know, my son,
That soon we’ll all be dead.”
They then signed off “Love, Mom and Pop,”
But Chuck could not help wonderin’
Precisely how a walrus would
“Facilitate” the plunderin’…
“Do you suppose,” he thought aloud,
“That snow is used as lube?
I only ask because, you know,
It’s such a narrow tube…”
“What kind of ‘tube’?” said Lucas then
With much insinuation;
But, thinking fast, Chuck hid his thoughts
By answering: “Eustachian.”
And Lucas said, “Hey listen, Chuck,
We’re off to find relief,
By maybe gettin’ us some puss’ —
You down to party, Chief?”
Yet from this Dark Temptation
Chuck did turn away his eyes,
And said, “A rain-check, dude. I’ll catch up
Later with you guys!”
But then he muttered something
That I will not soon forget:
“The White Man reckons nothing of
The growing Walrus Threat.”
Alas! when fate comes in-betwixt
A lover and his love.
Though racial stock be intermixed,
Yet pure the fruit thereof.
And thus it was for Nat’ and Chuck —
One Eskimo, one white —
And black the fate that was to separate
The two this night.
“But how will you pursue,” she said,
“Your dream to study snot?”
But Chuck could only hang his head
And say, “I’m all they’ve got.”
It is not ours to understand,
Nor ask the reasons why —
So Nanchucknook bid Natalie
A bittersweet goodbye.
For forty days and forty nights
He paddled ceaselessly,
Until he reached the waters
Of the frigid Arctic Sea.
And what should he find floating there?
A priceless artifact:
His father’s very spear itself —
Taleek-chu-klook, that noble spear,
Was lodged inside the brain
Of some unlucky narwhal who
Was accidentally slain.
“What luck!” said little Nanchucknook
“To find my father’s spear!
As if by destiny, it’s just
Been waiting for me here!”
So out he plucked his father’s spear
And ran he towards his village
And caught the ghastly king and all
His walruses mid-pillage.
“O SLARTIMANDERPUSS,” he cried,
“Thy reign is at an end!
I am returned to my home-town
My family to defend!”
Then said the walrus-king: “Why, if it
Come back to see your family, did you?
Ha! Well take a look!”
Then Slartimanderpuss the Cruel
Did yank an iron chain,
And thus pulled forth a woman
Whom the shackles did restrain.
Nanchucknook could not believe
The sight before his eyes:
The woman was his mother!
And she wore, to his surprise,
A gold metallic swim-suit thing
(The sort preferred by whores),
Pretty much exactly like
That princess in Star Wars.
Then Slartimanderpuss arose,
A figure vast and bloated —
He scoffed at little Nanchucknook,
And this is what he gloated:
“For nothing didst thou come back home —
Thy efforts are in vain!
Defeated are the Eskimos —
Thy kin shall soon be slain!”
But Nanchucknook held fast as he
Withstood the driving sleet:
“My language has twelve words for ‘ice,’
But no word for ‘defeat.’”
He raised his voice and cried aloud,
That all the world might know:
“MY OWN TRUE NAME IS NANCHUCKNOOK,
AND I’M AN ESKIMO!”
At this declaration
The behemoth grew enraged,
And, letting blow a mighty fart,
Towards Nanchucknook rampaged!
And how the sleet did blizzard,
And how the snow did flurry,
Before the fell stampede of
Slartimanderpuss in fury!
And all his walrus minions tried
To tackle Nanchucknook
As towards the walrus-king he ran
With great Taleek-chu-Klook!
But Nanchucknook, he dodged them all
As though it were the Rose-Bowl!
And with his spear did catapult
Into the daemon’s nose-hole!
(And wouldn’t you feel funny
If a little Eskimo
Had leaped inside of your nose
As you ran upon the snow?)
Well, Slartimanderpuss the Great
Did feel a queer sensation:
His eyelid twitched, his nostrils
Underwent extreme dilation.
An agonizing moment
All the Eskimos held breath,
And could have sworn they smelled upon
The air the scent of death.
And at what happened after
All the igloo-folk did blanch —
For Slartimanderpuss the Cruel
fell like an avalanche!
And how the tundra trembled,
And how the ices groaned,
Beneath the awesome weight of
But what of little Nanchucknook,
And what his gruesome fate?
Would Mom and Pop be forced to say
Before his name “the late”?
Well, right before the Daemon-Beast
Had wheezed his final wheeze,
An Eskimo was shot from out
His nostril in a sneeze!
Into a bank of snow-clad mounds
Did Nanchucknook alight,
And there his family found him — he was
Shaken, but all right.
“You come back home!” his mother said,
“To bring our people succor!”
Then looking on the beast she said,
The Eskimos were quite surprised
(To say the very least),
And curious to learn how he
Had slain the awful beast.
“It was a simple thing,” he said,
“To end the daemon’s malice:
I merely thrust my spear into his
This sinus, as you all must know,
Is rather sensitive —
If it is punctured by a spear,
The patient will not live.”
Kaleek-u-Glook, his father, looked
With pride upon his son,
And said, “My boy have vanquish him
Who worse than everyone;
And yet, if no had followed heart,
Then Nanchuck’ would have fail!”
(Which is, of course, the “moral” of
This hackneyed “native” tale.)
And Kate, the med-school studentess
Who used to give him flak,
That very same virago
Had a massive heart-attack!
And Natalie joined Nanchucknook
To be his lawful bride,
And in a darling igloo did
The two love-birds reside.
And Nanchucknook would never want
For business thenceforth,
Given that the common cold
Is common that far north.
And there you have the story
Of the frosty little lad
Who murdered Slartimanderpuss,
Who was extremely bad.